


First Day of Winter

by Winterstar



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Not Iron Man 3 Compliant, Prompt Fic, Spoilers, pre-serum steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-15
Updated: 2013-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-15 00:49:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/843372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterstar/pseuds/Winterstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story is based on the <a href="http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/16524.html?thread=36072588#t36072588"> prompt </a> at avengerskink meme. When Steve reverts to his preserum form, he has to deal with all of the health issues again on top of a new assassin, the Winter Soldier, appearing on the scene. Yet during a particularly bad battle, the Winter Soldier stops and helps his enemy breathe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Day of Winter

**Author's Note:**

> If you have no idea at all who the Winter Soldier is then there will be spoilers for the upcoming Captain America The Winter Soldier movie. Not Iron Man 3 compliant in the least.
> 
> I am not sure if I've actually hit everything in the prompt, but I hope it works for the OP! I tried!

_In the end, nothing is allowed that isn't the truth. It comes to him in the long stretches after the smoke has dissipated and they are left to look at the retreating figure in the afterglow of the battle. The truth. He looks down at his hands, at this body of his - his super serum body and sees the truth as he glances back up at the desolate figure gone, lost to the shadows, as his team huddles around him, still worried, still thrown off kilter by what happened._

_He knows what happened. He understands it._

_He saw the truth. The truth saved him._

_No, that's not right. That's not right at all. The truth is simple, the truth hurts, and the truth guts him._

_The truth is that Bucky saved him._

_Bucky long dead these many years, Bucky, his friend and his savior, was there again to save him.  
There are voices drifting to him now, asking him questions. He can only feel the heat of the fire on his skin, the flush of sweat and fear prominent in the stench around him. Yet, he is cold to the bone, like there is iced metal in the hollow core of him. As if the ice, that had concealed him, consumes him still._

_Someone has their hand on his shoulder trying to pull him out, trying to save him from the desolation of so many memories. He doesn’t shrug them off, but he stands his ground. The ground falters and cracks, though, and he has no firm foundation. His world, his reality spins out of control like a broken Ferris wheel. He cannot hold on, he’ll fly out with the centrifugal force flinging him away and smashing him up against the truth._

_The truth is that Bucky saved him today. The truth is he should have died all those years ago. The truth is he should be dead now. The truth is the shadows of the past saved him. The hand on his shoulder is the only thing that keeps him standing as the enormity of the truth slams into him and he falls, farther and harder than he ever has before._

_He begins to understand what happened some time later._

*oOo*

The team assembles to confront a foe whom SHIELD had identified near the Washington Monument. Currently, the Monument has been undergoing reconstruction due to damage suffered from a minor earthquake over a year ago. SHIELD received intelligence reports that it was a target, by who SHIELD couldn’t tell them. According to SHIELD sources, there had been a lot of chatter in the underground about something going down at the monument. Before the designated attack, SHIELD called the Avengers to assemble on the Helicarrier with a quinjet dropping them off on the Washington Mall, near the Smithsonian castle. They only had to jog the rest of the way down to the site to find out what was happening. The Monument seemed safe with no one even milling around it at the break of day. 

He tells his team to spread out, circle the Monument and do recon, reporting back to him. He follows his team with Tony in the air and Bruce walking beside him. He should have known better, he should have sensed something. A crack of lightning opens the sky up, but it is a clear day, a day of blues and azure and jewels in the sky. Yet, lightning spikes down from the sky and hits the Monument with its forked tongue.

It cannot be Thor because the Norse god is on the ground, walking the perimeter with the rest of the team. The dawn disappears and the darkness swallows up the all of the light from the sun. He turns around to look down the length of the Mall and that is when he saw it. 

A blackened funnel devours all light. There is no Capital Building, there is no sky or ground or even air because everything ends and vanishes into the maw of Hell. Keeping his wits isn’t easy, but he taps his earpiece and says, “Iron Man, you getting this.”

Iron Man say, “Yep, logging it as a w.t.f., Cap.”

“What?”

“What the fuck, Cap, what the fuck,” Hawkeye’s voice comes over the link. “I have to agree with the bird in the sky, that is one freak ass thing eating up the world.”

“Ideas, people?”

“Magic?” Widow calls from her station on the other side of the Monument. 

“And we have the blatantly obvious stated,” Iron Man replies.

“Are we trying to get ourselves killed,” Bruce chimes in.

“Cut the chatter,” he says. “Solutions, ideas, not insults.” 

There isn’t a solution. Thor rains down the lightning at the dark pit but it grows with intensity and roils. The turbulence quakes the ground beneath them, the winds howl and sting at their eyes. The pebbles from the walking paths pelt them and bruise them as they stand their ground watching this terrible thing increase in size. The darkness becomes ever blacker, the absence of light absolute and chilling as it deepens. 

Bruce transforms and stands over both Hawkeye and the Widow to provide some type of shelter from the constant barrage of projectiles. Neither of them complains but both stay alert and ready for action.

Glancing at his team, he knows there is only one thing to do. He has no other choice, he needs to stop this thing, this abyss before it expands, before it devours the world. 

“Tony, come in for a landing,” Steve directs. When Iron Man doesn’t argue, Steve peers up at the hovering armor.

“Steve?”

“Land, please,” Steve says and takes in a breath. With the ravaging wind, with the tiny stones bruising every exposed surface of his flesh, he braces himself. When Tony lands, Steve hands him the shield. “Keep this for me?”

“What? Why?”

Without answering, Steve races toward the pit of Hell, his one intent to throw himself bodily at it, to choke it, to smother it, to block the damned thing with his own body. He launches at it, and the cold weeps into his bones, shreds his flesh, and he is consumed.

*oOo*  
Consciousness slams into him, not in phases or soft and yielding, but as if he's been under the dark of deep waters and he surges upwards for freedom and breath. He pulls in air and it burns like scars of fire scorching his lungs and he must curl into himself due to the pain. He hears voices like shadows of yesterday on the periphery of today. He recognizes Tony calling to him, cursing him, he hears Natasha speaking in a language he doesn't know but understands her nonetheless. She's worried and angry at the same time. Off in the distance he hears Clint and Thor and the roar of the other guy. Yet, he knows he is alone. The maw, the entrance to hell or whatever it was has closed down, and vanished in his world. This is all he has, this moment of conscious awareness that lingers with the sounds of his friends echoing in his head. 

When he opens his eyes they fade and he is all the more impoverished for their loss. He needed them to stay with him, or at least the shades of who they are. But as he awakes, he sees nothing of his world, and everything of a different world, a foreign place. It looks like a palace; it looks like a maze that reaches up to a non-existent sky. There are arched windows upon windows stacked up into the sky, reaching farther than he can see. The hall goes on in parallel lines while at the same time circles around so that he can see no end or beginning. Still sitting, he climbs to his booted feet, his back aching and the feeling of being beaten into a brick wall resonating through his joints.

He spins about, trying to figure out where he is, and what is his objective. The first thing is to assess the situation for potential dangers as well as escape routes. Out of one of the hundreds of windows would be his only option, but then the windows are fogged and dark and tell him nothing of what he'd be jumping into if he went that way. There's no way out of the hall or room, when he looks at it with the focal point of his visual field being the hallway, it twist and turns in on itself, when he uses his peripheral vision he sees the corridor to exit. When he takes a step the room pulses between black and white. There's no way in or out.

"There is only the war, my dear Captain."

Startled he turns around to see Loki standing in one of the upper arches of the window panes. He doesn't have his staff, nor is he dressed as a mischievous god. Instead, he has a modest rough knit shirt on and trousers. His feet are bare; his hair much longer than the last time Steve saw him. Even in the humblest of attire, he exudes a certain arrogance and power. He smiles at Steve and tilts his head.

"Did you think the war would be over so soon, Captain? You, of all people, should know, should recognize in your fellow man the need to dominate and humiliate each other."

"I've never wanted that," Steve says but his voice sounds hollow and light in the vast room.

"Oh no, you haven't, have you?" Loki jumps down and lands quite gracefully on his feet. Steve shifts around ready for a fight, but feeling all the more vulnerable that he left his shield on the other side. Loki doesn't notice or if he does, he doesn't care at all to worry about it. "You are quite the famous one, your exploits and history has been sung about in Asgard, my brother has commissioned a lovely ballad in your honor. He heard your story, from a weakling to a warrior. You only had to endure the magic poisons of your Midgardian scientists."

Loki plays games that much Steve has learned in his time with his team. Loki loves to torment but there is always something underneath and hidden which is the true game, what is the real reason.

"So, here we are, Captain, in Hallway of Yesterdays and Tomorrows, but Never the Present. That's you, isn't it?" Loki circles around him. "You miss your life from yesterday but now, now you think of how you live in the Future. You never recognize how you live in the present."

Steve cannot deny what Loki says, and he knows the demi-god reads into people, takes their weaknesses and exploits them. "What do you want?"

"Oh, it isn't what I want at all."

"You're in prison."

Loki smiles half with a pain expression and the other half lasciviously. "Yes, you are correct."

"But you're here."

"Oh so it would seem," Loki says.

"You can't get out of your prison, so this isn't real," Steve surmises but never lets his guard down.

"Isn't it? What is reality but what we perceive?" Loki says and steps closer to him. "Tell me, Captain, do you believe in what you see every day? Are you not overwhelmed and wishing for the truth?"

"I don't want your truth."

"Do you not?" Loki laughs but it scratches at the air like a harmed animal calling out its imminent death. "I think you seek more than the others. I think you fight because you've lost everything. I think you want for more but never ask for it. I think you desire the truth."

"I think it's none of your business," Steve says. His hackles rise as Loki leans in close.

"I can give you that truth, my dear Captain."

Steve shoves him away and stumbles backward. "I don't want your truth."

"Oh, don't you?" 

Around them in the windows various figures appear, first like insubstantial ghosts, then solidifying into people from his past and people he does not know. Loki turns and looks. His eyes glitter with the reflection of light blossoming about the figures. Steve staggers and looks around, seeing people that come from his past. He sees the Howling Commandos but not Bucky. He recognizes Peggy, and Howard. He sees his mother as she looked right before the tuberculosis claimed her. He sees Doctor Erskine and his kind, soft eyes. He sees Colonel Phillips with his harsh outer personality and his softer side. Off to the side he recognizes the Red Skull and his henchmen, he sees Nazis and other soldiers. In the farther distance, he notices a man - a soldier or assassin, he doesn't know which. He has a tangle of long dark hair, a mask covering the lower portion of his face, a dark uniform, and a silver robotic arm. He has no idea who the man might be.

"I don't know what you want."

"I want you to know the truth."

"That's funny, that's rich," Steve says. "Because I think you're the god of lies."

Loki nods and grins a little like he is proud of his nicknames. "Well, there is that."

"Why did you do this?" Steve is tired of the games. He wants to wrap this up. 

"Let's say I've spent too many days trapped in a cell with too many things to think about, dear Captain." 

"You're bored?" Steve laughs. "That's not even-."

"Oh, it is," Loki replies. "It is, because I sit and I sit all day. My brother struts around like a king, like a god. And he cannot even know, he cannot even fathom that for him to exist, I must as well. For the good and mighty Thor to flourish, the dark and dangerous Loki must but balance out the branches of the tree of life. Too much weight on a branch will bow it and break it. He needs me."

"So you attack us?"

"No, so I capture you."

"That makes no sense," Steve says. 

"It does, in some ways, I've beheaded the great Avengers. I've taken you away."

"I'll get back."

Loki concedes. "You will, but not before you see the truth of what they've done." The words begin a whirl wind and the figures in the windows disappear. The howling wind rockets through the windows, shattering them and sending glass spewing outward. "Not before you understand the truth of where you are. Not before you face the truth."

The glass pierces him through and the world blacks out.

*oOo*

The ragged breath caught in his throat wakes him up. He opens his eyes to see Iron Man hunched over him, Hawkeye to his side, and Widow at his feet. He inhales and tastes the scorched earth in his throat. It roils and churns in his stomach but he can't say anything, he feels choked and strangulated. Someone rolls him to his side where he promptly vomits up what looks like soot mixed with bile. He gags while a gentle hand is pressed between his shoulder blades. It feels odd, off, and then the world starts to materialize around him and he realizes what's happened.

"Calm down, Cap, calm down," Tony says and it is his hand on Steve's back. 

"Wh-wh-." He cannot form the words, he falls back and someone - Widow - no Natasha - the look on her face is so different than the look on Widow's - is next to him, wiping away the stains of vomit from his lips. He looks down at her hand, at her delicate yet strong hands and wrists. His sight drifts and he observes his own arm, his own wrist, and his own frail hands. He draws in a breath but it burns his lungs and he says, "What did he do to me? What?"

He's falling back, cradled in someone's arms. Thor is over him, holding him as Tony is whispering, "Call the quinjet, we need to get him to safety."

He cannot protest, he cannot move, his strength is lost, he is gone. He fades to darkness again.  
When he revives a second time, he blinks awake to the sound of medical monitors and the flurry of medical personnel around his bed. There are intravenous lines in his hands and a doctor flashing a small light into his eyes. Someone else is checking abrasions on his chest and legs. He doesn't remember getting them. There's a call for a sedative and just as he's about to refuse because they don't work anyway, he looks at his stilted form, at his chest peppered with glass from the windows in the hallway. His thin and pale chest bleeds down across the sheets. 

As a nurse brings the sedative to hook up the line, he turns to the doctor and says, his tone broken and defeated, "I have asthma."

The doctor, an older woman, with round brown eyes pats his shoulder and replies, "It's in your file. We'll monitor you're breathing but we need to put you under since we have to abrade the wounds. It will be less painful that way."

He nods; he doesn't say anything about his heart condition. It should be in his file as well. But then part of him hopes it isn't and wishes that the stress of the situation will take him. He closes his eyes again and doesn't wake for ages.

"Captain Rogers?" 

"Hmm?" His throat is dry and he feels like someone stumped on his chest. 

"You're doing well. We were able to remove all the glass, and clean your wounds. There were several deep punctures, but no serious internal damage. The blood loss was significant enough that we’ve given you a pint to recover. You did have some trouble with the anesthesia, but you're out of the woods now." The nurse hovers over him and hits the button to lift the bed. "Do you need anything? How is your pain?"

Steve whispers, "Water?"

The nurse smiles and offers him a small cup. "Can you hold that please?"

"Sure," he says as he grasps the cup and sips. He tries not to taste the water, tries not to let the sensation, any sensation hit him because it would mean this is real, that he's reverted to some freak, some weakling from seventy years ago who gets beaten in back alleys, and doesn't know when to give up. 

She checks on the monitors again and then asks, "Can you tell me what your pain level is on a scale of one to ten?"

His senses are dull so he just shrugs and just that motion tugs on the gauze covering his hideous chest, his bony chest, his thin rail like chest. "Not much, pain meds are working." Just saying that hurts, hurts more than he thinks it should, and he turns his face away from her and from the clatter of noise as his team mates enter into the room.

When he turns back, he realizes it is just Thor and Tony. Maybe the rest cannot stand looking at him, in his weakened, pre-serum state. He knows he cannot. Thor looks all the god of thunder with the scowl on his face and a stare of death in the gleam of his eye. On the other hand, Tony paints on a facade that's lacking in concern yet that blasé attitude is so false it stabs Steve in his weakened heart.

"So, you want to tell us what possessed you to jump into the maw of hell and then get spit out again, chewed up and -."

"And like this?" Steve says. 

Tony fumbles, for the first time ever, Steve witnesses Tony at a loss for words. He recovers quickly and says, “Well, for research sake, we might be able to learn a lot now that we have you in your pre-serum state.”

“That’s lovely, Tony,” Steve says, but he studies Thor. “Can Loki do magic in prison?”

Thor grimaces and the lines of worry are etched in his face. Tony opens his mouth as if he might protest but he realizes what is happening, what has occurred as they speak. 

“This is Loki’s doing?” Tony says.

“Yes, I don’t know how, or why, really, but on the other side of that black pit was Loki.” Steve shifts in the bed and everything feels like angles and sharp points. His body isn’t his, he’s been abducted by a stranger.

“My brother, my brother is in a prison within the far reaches of Asgard, down deep within the well.” Thor shakes his head. “It cannot be. There are safe guards in place to ensure he cannot perform magic of any kind.”

“Well,” Steve says and shrugs. “It was him. He acknowledged that he was in prison, but also there as well.”

“It can only be of the darkest magic. He can no sooner stretch across the borderlines of the shields around him than wield Mjolnir.” 

“We were in a hallway with windows that stretched up to – well, it seemed like forever.”

“A long and narrow hallway?”

“Yes, but when I tried to move one way or the other it spun on an axis and seemed like a circular room,” Steve says. “The windows didn’t feel like real windows but more like something else, more like screens or recesses.”

“So there was no way out or in?” Tony asks.

“Something like that.”

“An oubliette.” Tony frowns and starts to pace. “Was his end game you?”

“I’m not sure, he seemed satisfied that he had me, said something about cutting off the head of the Avengers,” Steve says and tries to inhale but it tightens his chest. 

Tony chuckles a little. “Loki, he has such a great sense of humor.” He waves off their disapproving looks and continues, “So what else?”

“He told me I wanted to know the truth and then showed me a number of people from my past and someone I didn’t recognize at all.”

“Weird, your brother has a bunch of worker bees in his head without any queen bee in there to give orders,” Tony comments. 

“But he endeavored to show you a truth?” Thor ignores Tony’s statement.

“Yes, not sure what it was about, next thing I knew all the windows blew out and I was back on the Mall.” 

“This is wicked magic,” Thor says and his expression darkens. For a moment, Steve wonders if the weather about them on the Helicarrier has somehow changed with the winds of his emotions. 

“Wicked as in good, kick-ass stuff or wicked as in ultimately evil and will mean all our eyeballs will melt out of our heads,” Tony asks.

Thor makes a disgusted face and confirms, “The latter but without as much repulsive gore.”

Tony quirks his eyebrows and says, “I knew it, we’re damned.”

“Or just me,” Steve says and leaves it at that. He really doesn’t want to admit and face what has happened to him. Tony glances at him with a question on his lips but he does not voice it. It is lost in the moment because Thor has a revelation.

“His time in between.”

“That makes sense,” Tony says. “His time in between what?”

“You do not grasp my meaning. When Loki and I fought, the bifrost was broken, torn asunder, and he fell. He fell into the abyss between times and worlds and space. He existed but did not exist. He died but did not. He was in between times.”

“So you’re saying the Loki I saw,” Steve starts.

“The Loki you saw was from the future. From between times, he must have experienced things, seen things and actions and now knows these fates of the future to use as our enemy.” Thor crosses his arms. “It will do no good for me to beckon my father to use the tesseract to bring me home to confront him. The Loki of today does not know this Loki of tomorrow.”

“So, we can’t-.” Steve drops his gaze and stares at his useless hands in his lap. The tubes connected there, the blood being fed to him. “We can’t change this.”

“We cannot ask Loki for assistance, not the Loki we know, but I will find a way, I promise you that,” Thor states and grasps Steve’s shoulder. The clamp on his arm is a too strong and he winces. Thor nods and leaves him with Tony.

Tony sidles up to the bed and invites himself to sit on the edge. He folds his hands and says, “Well, what do we have here.”

“Not really interested, Stark.” Steve refuses to look at him.

“Still feisty and ready for a fight,” Tony chuckles. “We’ll get this squared away, Cap.”

“We will, will we?” Steve doesn’t feel confident, in fact, he feels spent, thin, raked over, and burnt. “Are you about to build a time machine so we can find this Loki of the future?”

“Well, no, that would be completely insane,” Tony smirks. “But I do own a Delorean.”

“I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean,” Steve says.

Tony is quiet, silent for too long and when Steve looks up at him, really concentrates on his features, he sees it. He recognizes the façade for what it is, fake and false. It covers up the embers of fear that have blown to a fire. 

At the same time he’s about to query him, Tony says, “Cap, we have a problem.”

“Fury isn’t going to let me on the team,” Steve finishes for Tony because it is so much easier for him to state it than anyone else. It is only fair; he’s the one that threw himself into the pit of hell. 

“Shit, he is, or I’ll make sure you’re on the team,” Tony says but then continues, “It isn’t that. We’ll figure that one out.” Tony waves it off as if it is an annoying bug. “It’s what the doctors are saying.”

He rolls his eyes. “I know what the doctors are saying, Tony. I lived in this body for most of my life.”

“But you didn’t live in this body for most of your life in the 21st century.”

Steve lifts a shoulder. “Yeah, so?”

“Some of the issues you have, well, they can fix or give you good drugs for like your asthma. The heart thing, well, they need to do some tests to plan a therapy for it, but there’s one other thing-.”

“One other thing?” Steve still isn’t tracking why this is making Tony whisper, why he’s so upset.

“Your immune system.”

“Ain’t great,” he says. “I already know that.”

“But your immune system is seventy years behind the times. There’s flus, and HIV, and SARS, and all kinds of stomach bugs, and pneumonias, and, damn, there’s even the common cold that isn’t the same common cold that you had. Viruses mutate and, in the time you were asleep, they changed and your body didn’t keep up.”

“What?”

“They’re worried that this body of yours doesn’t have the same immune system as your suped up one, that your immune system is seventy years old.” Tony clenches his hands and says, “So they’re going to vaccinate you and then hope for the best. I told them you probably didn’t want to become the next bubble boy.”

“Probably not,” Steve concedes. “Whatever that is.”

“Then there’s the problem with your heart.”

“Palpitations, always had them, no big deal,” Steve says and lies back. He cannot believe he’s talking about this again. He cannot believe his life is about this again. He doesn’t confess that he’s experiencing the erratic beating of his heart at that moment, but the monitor rats him out.

Tony raises an eyebrow at it and turns back to Steve. “They’re gonna do some tests, see if there’s anything they might be able to do for it.”

Steve nods but says, “This is temporary. I’m not going to be like this forever.”

“Do you know that, did Loki say that?”

He murmurs, “No. He just said I needed to face the truth. When he said he captured me, and I told him I would get back, he told me not before I saw the truth of what they’d done.”

“Truth? Who?” Tony asks.

“I don’t know, but I do know that this isn’t permanent.”

“It is, if it kills you, Steve, it is if it kills you,” Tony says and stands. He looks like he might broach another subject, like there is something worrying him but instead he lifts his chin and says, “Stay cool.”

“I’m just gonna stay here and chill,” Steve says with smile on this lips.

Tony tries to squash the laughter, but he surrenders to it and throws his head back. When he comes to himself again, he says, “Where in the hell did you learn that one?”

“Hawkeye.”

“Point for the bird man,” Tony says and then after moment becomes somber again. “Hey, we’ll get through this.”

“Sure we will,” Steve says. “What’s a little setback like this when we’ve won against an alien invasion?”

“That’s the right attitude.”

“Hey, I’m kinda used to getting kicked around, I could do this all day,” Steve replies.

Tony taps the glowing circle in his chest. “Some of us have weak hearts, we can’t take too much, you know.”

Steve places a hand on his own chest, his bony sternum. “Right back at you.”

Tony smiles, but it is soft and knowing. “Get some rest, you degenerate.”

“You, too.”

After Tony leaves, Steve lies back and stares up at the ceiling tiles, fixing on the pin holes of each square. His life isn’t solid, but stripped and bare and poked into fine little fragments. He’s not sure he’ll have his life back again, not the one he wants. He’s stuck with this one, this frail frame of a man. He’s never been one to feel sorry for himself, but so much hope has never been taken away from him before.

*oOo*  
The doctors inject him with a slew of vaccines, test him for immune reactions, and put him through a battery of examinations on his heart and lungs. He ends up with two different inhalers, one he’s told he should use every day twice a day and one he is to use for acute asthma attacks. They also decide that he has something called atrial fibrillation which happens to be chronic. They have him wear a heart monitor for days and then decide what medications he might need. He prepares to go home with an extra bag with all of his medications stowed.

Tony walks into his hospital room on the Helicarrier with Pepper in tow. She has a large shopping bag and has the decency to not react surprised at his appearance. He’s grateful to her even though he’s sure that Tony prepared her by showing her his old photos. 

She shows him the bag and smiles. “I went shopping for you.” Her freckles sparkle in the lighting of the medical bay.

“Shopping,” he says as she places the bag on his lap. He’s still in the bed since his doctors aren’t prepared to release him just yet. He has other plans.

“Well, while some of us won’t mind seeing a flash or two of your skinnified butt, Pep, here pointed out it might be a good idea to pick you up some clothes for your trip back to the Tower.”

“Skinny-.” He stops and swallows his anger. “Thank you, Pepper that was very kind of you.”

“Always the polite one,” Tony shakes his head. “I have to get Bruce in here to teach you how to blow off some steam.” 

“Yes, because that always works to the best outcome,” Steve says and swings the blankets down. He’s wearing a SHIELD t-shirt and sweats. They pool at his ankles and he tries his best not to be ashamed, but he still reddens as he has to slides to the floor. “Thank you, again.”

“No problem, Steve.” She leans over and kisses his cheek. “I’ll see you boys in a little bit.” 

Once she exits, Tony follows him to the small bath off the main room. “Thor contacted his father or some shit. They’re examining the spaces between, and they’ve talked to Loki. Today’s Loki has no idea what tomorrow’s Loki is up to or why.”

Steve places the bag on the closed toilet and turns to see Tony watching him. He pushes Tony out of the room and closes the door. He quickly disrobes and dresses as Tony rambles on about the current state of affairs. He’s not sure he should care, though he knows he should listen and consider. He doesn’t plan on being like this forever. He will get his body back, the one he’s meant to have. Doctor Erskine didn’t die for nothing. Steve still has a job to do and he can’t do it in this damaged body. 

He shaves and pats his face dry and then opens the door.

Tony whistles and says, “Looking sharp, Cap.”

He bows his head and smiles. “Thanks, Tony, I know you’re lying but that’s nice.” He’s wearing a button down shirt, and tailored pants. The shirt is a pale blue and the pants are navy. 

“Hey, don’t knock Pepper’s taste, the blue makes your-.” He points to Steve’s face and waves his hand around a bit. “You know, come out.”

“My eye color?” Steve says with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, that.”

Steve shakes his head and rolls his eyes. He grabs the bag and stuffs the old t-shirt and sweats into the bag along with the other new clothes Peppers purchased. He gathers up his medicines and tosses them in the bag as well.

“Hey, do you know where my shield is?”

Tony nods. “Back at the Tower, they wanted it but I said no.”

“What?” Steve says. “Who wanted it?”

“SHIELD, said if you weren’t Captain America anymore, you didn’t get the shield. I told them to go fuck themselves.”

“Um, thank you and watch your mouth.”

“Wow, a compliment and a reprimand in one sentence.” 

“Technically that wasn’t a compliment,” Steve says as he picks up his bag and starts toward the door.

“So, no compliment, maybe I should hand deliver the shield,” Tony says as he races after Steve. “Hey, have you been released?”

“As far as I’m concerned, I have been. Now, are we going?” Steve asks as he pauses by the medical bay central reception desk.

“I can get them to fire up a quinjet and drop us off,” Tony says and adds, “See, I’m nice, you are not.”

“Well, little guys have to stand up for themselves,” Steve comments as they walk toward the corridor.

“Christ, you are pain in the ass, even as a wimp.”

“Watch your mouth, and I can do this all day.”

Tony smirks. “I’m sure you can.” 

He hears Tony delivering a message to fire up a quinjet as well as moving the armor to the jet cargo. As Steve and Tony walk down the long corridor in the Helicarrier, Clint and Natasha somehow find them and fall into step. In a few minutes more, both Thor and Bruce lead the way toward the flight deck. Not a word, not an agent stops them. Steve is surrounded by his team, and something in his heart seizes as he realizes he’s not alone in this, he’s not some freak in an alley way without Bucky to save him. He has family, he has friends.

When Clint ushers him onto a prepped quinjet, he nods his thanks and climbs aboard. Pepper is already seated and buckled in, the suitcase with the armor next to her. Once he is strapped in and the others secure themselves as well, Clint announces take off. There is no word from Hill or Fury. Steve doesn’t look back, he’s not ready to acknowledge the fact that part of his life, an essential part of his new life has been ripped away from him and he’s not sure he’ll survive without it. He keeps his mouth shut and his features tooled. He’ll not show his stress or his fear, today there is nothing to fear.

Clint navigates the jet to Stark Tower with various comments from Tony about the lack of finesse of the jet’s design, Clint’s piloting ability, and how he needs better arrows. Clint ignores all the comments but the last one, and challenges Tony to build him something better. The banter jostles the smiles back and forth and keeps the mood light. No one is talking about the fact that they have no new information, no new way to return Steve to his post serum body. Every now and then when he glances at Thor, Steve glimpses a solemn almost guilty expression cross his face. There is nothing to be done, one way or another, this isn’t permanent. He has to believe this simple fact.

The jet settles on the landing pad at Stark Tower and the back opens. Steve unbuckles and pulls down his bag of new clothes. As he exits, he feels the first harsh blast of cold air. It is early December and the air has the chilly bite of winter and frost laced in it. He can see his breath as he exhales. 

And then he can’t.

He can’t move air at all. His lungs tighten like a vice grip and squeeze. His airways constrict and he rasping for breath. Cold air, he’d forgotten, how cold air had been the bane of his young adulthood. The others are slightly ahead of him. He staggers and stops, searching through his bag for the inhaler. He isn’t helpless anymore, the inhaler will work. This isn’t when he grew up and he’d nearly died from the spasms in his bronchi.

On his knees, he fumbles through the bag and tears at the smaller paper bag of his medicines. He shreds it looking for the inhaler, his vision is funneling, and his eyes are wet with the strain of trying to breath. His hands shake and he can’t get the inhaler out. He can’t even remember how to use the damned thing.

Suddenly, someone is next to him, has the inhaler in hand, placing it again his lips and counting then telling him to breath in. He follows directions, and the inhaler isn’t removed but again the count to three and he breathes in as the puff of steroid is released. He coughs and pushes away. 

“Let’s get him inside.” It’s Bruce holding onto him, it’s Bruce with the inhaler. “Get him inside and out of the cold air.” 

Thor and Tony are next to him with Thor slinging an arm around his waist and leading him to the rooftop door. He’s still gasping for breath as they enter the warm building as they step over to the elevator and wait for it.

“JARVIS, now would be good,” Tony demands.

In moments, the elevator appears and they step into it. His throat tightens and he has to relax has to fight to struggle. He squirms and releases Thor of his support, putting both hands on his knees and realizing he dropped his bag out on the tarmac. As he remembers the rhythm of breathing, he notices the bag in Natasha’s hand. He takes several breathes but they are not deep enough, they don’t satisfy. The world grays but does not completely fade away. No one says anything; they are either too shocked or trying to be polite. He doesn’t know which but he’s grateful and ashamed of the silence all at once. 

There is only a short ride to the penthouse level and he sways out of the elevator with Thor’s hand on his elbow to steady him. He hears Bruce in the background doling out instructions but he ignores them. 

With a gasp, he asks, “Room? C-can I go to my room?” 

Bruce is in his face and settles him on the couch in the main living room of the penthouse level. “Just stay here, the inhaler isn’t working as well as we hoped.” 

He succumbs to the couch and Natasha and Tony are piling pillows and cushions around him, supporting him in a reclined position. He had been stupid. He hadn’t worn a jacket, hadn’t been ready for the briskness of the wind. He knows better, this had been his life for so long, much longer than being a super soldier. 

“I’m going to make some tea,” Pepper says with Natasha and Clint trailing after her.

“Good idea,” Bruce adds. “I’m calling the doctors.”

“No, Bruce,” he says but his words are stilted and barely audible. Bruce only frowns at him and walks toward the bar area as he tugs out his phone. 

Tony sits on the coffee table while Thor hangs over the couch, staring down at him. “I am truly sorry, my shield brother.”

“Don’t,” Steve says. “Th-this is wh-who I really am.” He gulps between the words for breath. It will ease soon, he knows it. He remembers. 

Thor looks out to the city, the recovering city that his brother once tried to lay waste to and says, “You are a warrior, and you are our leader. That is who you really are.” He squeezes Steve’s shoulder and moves off standing with Bruce as he converses with the SHIELD doctors.

“He did this to you for a reason.”

Steve looks at Tony. “He said to cut out the Avengers’ leader.” His lungs are releasing him from their iron grip. “But you’re as much a leader as I am.”

“If I’d thrown myself into the pit, maybe something would have happened to me,” he replies and touches the arc reactor embedded in his chest. “Whatever possessed you to do that? You’re supposed to be a man of strategy, not wild ass ideas.”

He shrugs his shoulders and says, “It was a plan of attack.”

Tony only offers him a half-smile. “We tried to follow you in, but as soon as you jumped, the whole thing collapsed around you.”

“Then I accomplished my objective.”

“Bullshit, you accomplished Loki’s objective which was to harm the Avengers for some future reason.” Tony slaps his hand on his leg. “We have to reverse this, somehow, or else future Loki has the advantage.”

“There is no way my brother will be released from his prison cell on Asgard,” Thor says as he walks over and joins them. 

Clint enters the room with mug in hand. When Steve sits up, both Thor and Tony move to help him but he scowls at them. He’s not an invalid. “Thank you.”

Clint grunts his reply. 

“Well, Loki must be released at some point,” Tony says with a shrug.

“Being in the spaces between time and space he may have learned many things, seen many different futures, this brings great concern to me,” Thor notes.

“Fury is on the comm,” Natasha says. “He’s not happy the Captain left but he did say to keep him safe.”

“The doctors at SHIELD want to do more tests to see if there’s any of the serum left, has it been depleted, or just inactivated,” Bruce says as he skips down the steps from the bar, stuffing his phone back in his jeans’ pocket.

“You’re worried they might want to-.”

“Check and see if they can re-create it with the only perfect subject that the world has known,” Bruce confirms. “Yes, they aren’t saying that right now. They’re saying their concerned with your heart condition and your asthma.”

“But you think they want me back in there for a reason other than just to check on my health?” Steve says and sets the mug of spiced tea on the side table.

“Yes, I’m pretty sure,” Bruce says.

“Well, they are not playing in that yard,” Tony says. “Fuck, they don’t even have a vita-ray machine. What the fuck do they think they can reproduce it?”

Steve raises his hand to stop the conversation. “No one is going to do anything to me.”

“Damn right,” Clint says. His stance is closed and confined. He’s ready to fight. 

“Not without my permission,” Steve says. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I would like to unpack my new clothes and look over some briefing reports.” He stands grabs the bag and leaves his team members. He knows they are upset, he understands it. But right now, he needs a moment to catch his breath both figuratively and literally. 

He doesn’t get it.

The alarm goes off to assemble. Before Tony has the suit assembled around him, he’s at Steve door stopping him. “You can’t go.”

“I fought bullies for much longer in this body than in the super soldier one.”

“It doesn’t matter, Steve,” Tony says and he has his hand on his shoulder, providing support but at the same time halting him from going forward. “You stay here; JARVIS will send the feed to you from my HUD. You’ll see everything and will help us call the shots.”

He knows, logically, that Tony’s right, but his muscle memory tenses. His adrenaline pumps and accelerates his already damaged heart rhythm. He nods and drops his shield.

“Get to the penthouse, JARVIS, will have everything set up,” Tony says as he takes off, the alarm sounds throughout the hallways. The team scrambles and, in minutes, is ready. Clint, Natasha, and Bruce rush to the landing pad where they left the quinjet and both Tony and Thor take off to the skies.

As he stands there, staring out at the sky and the cityscape, he feels all of the 97 pounds of a weakling he is. 

“Now you know how I feel.”

He turns around to find Pepper standing at the doorway. He looks at her and her eyes are sad, worried, and distant. “I’m sorry,” he says because he doesn’t know what else to say. Pepper and Tony’s relationship has always been complex and complicated by his desire to be Iron Man. 

“No,” she says and guides him away from the cold night air. “I am. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

JARVIS has the living room transformed to a visual display and holographic read out of what Tony sees as soon as he arrives. It freezes Steve, his mouth drops open, and he feels the tension in his chest again. 

Pepper must see his stricken expression because she says, “What is it, Steve, what’s wrong?”

He shakes himself and says, “JARVIS, comm open?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Hey, guys, the guy in the back, the one with the silver arm,” Steve says and his heart throbs in his chest like an insane drummer.

“Got him in my sights,” Hawkeye says.

“Loki showed me him, I saw him in the room, the hallway of windows,” Steve says.

“What does that mean?” Pepper says but he ignores her. He doesn’t want to be rude but this is battle.

“You need to capture him,” Steve says. “Do not kill, capture him.”

“Understood, Captain,” Tony says through the link. 

Both Steve and Pepper wait the anxious minutes as the battle rages. He’s not even sure what the objective of the current operation. The assassin seems to be taking no prisoners, seems bent on accessing the NSA. Steve maneuvers them through several tricky actions on the part of the invaders. He cannot get a read of who they are or who the assassin with the silver arm might be, but Natasha is strangely quiet through the whole mission.

In the end, they fail to capture the assassin but they do protect the NSA from any further assaults. By the time they land on the Tower again, it is pitch black out and the team is exhausted. Bruce disappears to meditate and Natasha corners Steve in the kitchen and says, “I know who he is.”

“Who?”

“The assassin, the one that Loki showed you,” Natasha whispers. “He’s a relic from the old ways, from the Soviet Union.”

“The Soviet Union?” 

“Yes, he’s the Winter Soldier. He gets activated for special assignments. He disappeared for some time after the fall of the Soviet Union, I thought he was gone. The project terminated.” She makes no attempt to hide what she means by terminated. “They had him in stasis for years then wake him and give him an assignment. He’s ruthless and thinks of only the assignment.”

“You know him.”

“Yes.”

“Who is he?” This assassin, this Winter Soldier will be part of his future, is part of why Steve has been condemned to his weaker self. 

“He’s an assassin, Steve, if he’s part of your future; he’s here to kill you.”

*oOo*  
After Natasha’s revelation, the war room which is actually the living room in the penthouse becomes their all night vigil. It is decided that Thor needs to contact his father and go back to Asgard for whatever information he might be able to glean from his brother or from Odin. There really isn’t a choice. 

“One thing that was apparent when they attacked the NSA,” Tony says. “They were thrown off when we arrived sans Captain.”

“Definitely,” Clint says. “The assassin – the Winter Soldier – spent wasted time searching for something, or someone.”

“I think it was you,” Natasha agrees.

“I don’t even know who he is,” Steve says, staring at the still image projected by JARVIS. 

“He’s dangerous and he’s always successful. He always gets his target,” Natasha says and her face is grave, tight, as if she holding back both horrible memories and something softer, something she mourns. 

“Well, I suppose it’s good that Gramps is benched while we find out what this is all about,” Tony says.

“I don’t think that’s the best idea,” Steve stated. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Tony glares at him, but Pepper tugs on his shoulder. He waves her off. “You are not going out there.”

“I’m the perfect bait, if he’s looking for me I should go out and I should be there.”

“He has a point,” Clint says.

“So states the bird boy,” Tony mutters under his breath. Pepper slaps him again.

“Don’t, just don’t,” Steve says and then conveniently decides now would be a good time to have a bout of heart palpitations. He closes his eyes and grabs at his chest. It will pass, it always did before, and he is on new meds. 

“Should we get, Bruce?” He hears Tony saying, but he shakes his head.

“Leave him be, now,” Steve says and then it passes as he predicted. “I’m going to get some sleep.”

He leaves them and walks through the dark hallways, thinking of the man with the silver robotic arm, thinking of the ghosts in the hallway of windows. All of the Howling Commandos were there, except for Bucky. While Loki experienced the times and spaces between when he fell from the bifrost, maybe, he never saw Bucky, because Bucky died? 

From what he understands, Thor broke the rainbow bridge severing all connection to Earth. When that happened Loki plunged into the spaces between them and experiences time and space differently than any normal person would. That much made sense. So, it is reasonable to assume the Loki who attacked with the Chitauri had those memories. 

He opens the door to his room and walks to the window. The night is crystal and quiet and the darkness sparkles with lights. The Loki of the future will use the knowledge he gained to do something, maybe leave prison, maybe escape. He knows something about this Winter Soldier and he knows that the Winter Soldier is connected to Steve.

The Winter Soldier wants him dead. No one knows who the Winter Soldier really is. He’s been around for ages, kept in stasis. That thought sends shiver down his spine, it hits a little too close to home. They are connected, somehow. 

One of two things need to happen. Either Steve goes out the next time the alarm rings and it is the Winter Soldier, or he convinces Thor to bring him to Asgard to talk to Loki.

He drops on the bed, the weight of the day heavy on his chest. Now, he has to make either or both happen, because he has a feeling that not only is his future in the balance, but the world is as well.

*oOo*

Over the course of the next weeks, he spends a good amount of the time ill. The asthma medication needs to be adjusted; Bruce is beside himself and turning a little green around the gills as he tries to figure it out without alerting SHIELD. Fury bothers them but never insists on Steve coming to SHIELD HQ for which he is grateful. He recognizes that the spy is keeping the hounds at bay.

He wonders if he would undergo another treatment by these SHIELD doctors. Erskine’s formula had failed before with Schmidt, but had worked with Steve. There is the possibility it is the subject and not the variations of the formula itself. He tries to suppress the anxiety of never being the super soldier again, never taking up the shield again. Desperation breeds recklessness though and he’s nearing the end of his rope. 

The next three times the Winter Soldier attacks, Steve is ill in bed. It seems the medical staff at SHIELD had been correct to be concerned with his immune system. A cold has turned to bronchitis which has him in bed wheezing and fighting for breath every minute of the day. Pepper is sweet and sits with him when the Avengers are out confronting the latest attempts by the Winter Soldier. 

JARVIS has the display on the large screen television as well as in three dimensions around the room. It doesn’t look good and the Winter Soldier and his henchmen are gaining ground. At one point, Tony spirals out of the sky and Pepper jumps up with a yelp. The HUD goes black and JARVIS scrambles to pull feed from public and private sources. They can still hear the sounds of the battle over the communications link, but there are calls and chaos. Nothing orderly, nothing to tell them if anyone is alive.

He flips the blankets from his lap away and staggers out of bed. “JARVIS, cancel. I’m on my way.”

“Captain, you are in no condition-.”

“Steve, you can’t-.”

“They are being slaughtered, I don’t have a choice,” Steve says, steps into his closet, dresses, and slings on a jacket. It is fiercely cold on the first day of winter. He rummages through his closet and manages to find a pair of boots that Pepper brought by the second week of this horror story. They aren’t perfect, but they’ll do. He doesn’t have any gloves that will fit so he’ll have to deal with it. Pulling out the shield, he turns around to face Pepper. Her face is ashen and conflicted.

“I want you to do this,” Pepper says as the sounds of chaos play over the communications link. They still can’t find Tony, there’s the sound of people screaming and gunfire. “But I know I should tell you to stay.”

He approaches her; she’s so much taller than he is now. He grabs hold of her arm, not gently, and tugs her down. He kisses her cheek. “I’ll bring him home; I’ll bring them all home.”

There are tears in her eyes and he nods. Whatever happens he will not be the reason this woman cries. He races to the elevator but not before collecting an ear bud and tucking it into place. “JARVIS?” 

“I read you, Captain.”

“Take me to the parking garage.”

The elevator descends as JARVIS says, “I know it is useless to advise you against this plan of action, Captain Rogers.”

“It is.”

“So, I will not.”

“I appreciate that.”

The rest of the ride down to the parking level is silent until the doors open and JARVIS says, “I appreciate what you are trying to do, Captain.”

“Thank you,” Steve says and walks to the motorcycle.

“No, thank you,” JARVIS says in his earpiece. 

He kicks the motorcycle into gear as he throws the engine on. He understands the cold will be a factor that his congested lungs will work against him. So, before he takes off, he yanks the inhaler out of his pants’ pocket and doses himself with two puffs. It will have to do; the damned stuff doesn’t work well for him anyway. 

The battle isn’t far and is taking place in mid-town Manhattan. Weaving through the traffic, he should be there in a matter of minutes. He braces for the cold, but isn’t truly ready for the hit of it against his face, freezing his lungs. He feels the constriction of his air ways but he gulps a bit against it and, by sheer force of will, stops the spasms, if only temporarily. He only needs to get there, for the Winter Soldier to see him, and they will be safe, his team will be able to regroup and adjust. 

As he closes in on the battle, he can hear the crack of gunfire and the smoke thickens around him. There are fires burning and cars gutted along the side of the streets. People have abandon their vehicles and raced away from the site of the conflict. He curbs the bike and shuts it off, then jumps off to find the rest of the way there on foot. He has one element on his side, surprise. 

The shield as his protection and only weapon he moves forward, crouching near turned over cars, sneaking through the thickening smoke. It curls and thickens in his lungs. As he approaches the fire fight he can see a sprawled Iron Man to the side of the road. There doesn’t look like there is any external damage.

“JARVIS, I can see Iron Man, what do you read?”

“The Iron Man armor is currently rebooting due to a severe electrical arc,” JARVIS answers. 

“And Tony?”

“Because I cannot access the suit at this time, Captain Rogers, I have no way of assessing, sir’s condition.”

Steve peers over the hood of a smoking car and sees he’s just behind enemy lines, in fact, the Winter Soldier is no more than fifteen feet away. Iron Man is slightly out in the open, but there is a portion concealed by a crushed taxi. He could call out to the Winter Soldier, get his attention turned to Steve and then his team would be able to engage the rest of the gunmen without the distraction of the assassin. He can just make out Hawkeye from a perch over near the local church and Bruce is nowhere to be seen, either he didn’t transform or he did and the Winter Soldier’s men have him cornered somewhere else. Since Thor is currently on Asgard trying to find a cure for Steve, that only leaves Widow to challenge the Soldier one on one. From what Steve can see, she’s doing a bang up job of it. 

Steve looks back at the inert Iron Man and decides; first he has to get Tony out of harm’s way. Hunched over, he shuffles to the side of the armor and kneels near the crumpled taxi side. He fingers the side of the faceplate looking for a release. The cold makes it difficult to feel, his face is numb, his fingertips senseless, his lungs so tight his eyes water. Just as he gets the plate to lift and he sees Tony blinking against the whip of cold wind, the phlegm and the congestion conspire against him.

He coughs, hard and harshly. He tries to inhale and cannot. He falls back on his ass, searching in his pockets for the inhaler, but it isn’t there. Looking over to the bike he can see the little blue tube near the tire. He dropped it. 

“Steve?” Tony says, he is coming into consciousness slowly.

His lungs rebel and spasm with tiny seizures. It feels like a coiled snake, a viper, has a hold of him but from the inside. The world starts funneling away with greys and blues taking the place of light and shadow. Somehow, Tony is at his side, telling him to breathe, to calm, and to take a god damned breath.

He can’t. The phlegm in his throat clogs what little passage the air has, he feels his eyes roll and his joints loosen. He hears a startled scream of protest and then there is an arm around him, a metallic arm. A hand, a human hand settles on his chest and he hears a familiar voice.

“Breathe, follow me, breathe.” The hand rubs circles on his chest.

He tries but cannot.

“Listen to my breathing, in and out, slow it down,” the voice instructs. “Come on, Rogers, you can do better than that.”

He feels the familiar tuck of his back against the chest of the person helping him. His vision swims in and out. Tony is sitting in front of him, frozen. The sound of gunfire and battle dissipates and fades until there is only silence around him. And the sound, the purposeful sound of breathing, breathing behind him.

“Breathe, you stupid ass. What do you think my job is to save your ass every day?” 

With the sound of the voice, he takes his first easy breath, then a second. 

“There you go, perfect.”

He looks down and sees the silver arm around him, the other human hand over his heart, pacing him. His lungs relax and his mind takes over.

“Bucky,” he whispers and he knows the terrible truth. And god it hurts, it hurts more than death and loss and being outside of everything and out of step with everyone. It hurts so much. He wants to whimper for it. 

The arms release him and fall away. He topples to the cold concrete and Tony scrambles over to him. The Winter Soldier stands there, like a sentinel for a moment. But then he is lost to Steve because the pain starts, the horrendous, encompassing pain. It stretches and pulls and he’s screaming and fighting and knows exactly what Bruce feels like every single time he transforms into the Hulk because Steve is transforming right here, right now, because he’s learned a little truth of his life. He’s learned a little bit of who and what has happened. He’s held through the transformation and by the time he’s a super soldier again, Bucky is just a shadow racing away into the smoke filled streets with his gunmen following him.

He staggers to stand with Natasha and Tony helping him. He stares out, watching the receding figure, looking at his lost past.

“Bucky?”

Tony looks at Natasha and she says, “Something, you must have triggered a memory. If that’s Bucky, then you made him, the Winter Soldier, remember something.”

“It’s Bucky, he’s the only one who could talk me through an asthma attack,” Steve says.

Natasha gazes up at him and says, “Then maybe, maybe there is hope for him?”

When Steve thinks on it, thinks on his scrawny asthmatic self, and how he hadn’t a hope in the world, he knows there is some hope left in this world. He’ll do what he can, he knows he has to help Bucky remember. The smoke is clearing and there is no shadow or figment of the Winter Soldier remaining. It starts to snow then, large beautiful flakes drift around them, glittering like stars in the air and on the ground. As Steve watches he remembers it is the first day of winter. 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for spending part of your day with me, kudos to you!
> 
> No beta and I continue to invite any minor corrections, thank you!
> 
> Follow me on [tumblr](http://winterstar95.tumblr.com) for alerts or updates on my writing.


End file.
